


Righteous Side of Hell

by tehhumi



Series: Penance for the Unrepentant [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Reborn Elves, Rivendell | Imladris, Third Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 11:37:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19767403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehhumi/pseuds/tehhumi
Summary: Celegorm is exiled from Valinor again, and the Third Age is going to be interesting. Sure, he’s supposed to make amends, but that’s got to be less boring than waiting around in Mandos.





	Righteous Side of Hell

When Erestor told Elrond there was a Calaquendi visitor who would see only him, he wasn’t sure who to expect. After Gil-Galad had been killed by Sauron, some had looked to Elrond to be King of the Noldor. More had seen little need, as many of the Noldor had sailed West, the grief of centuries of War too much for them to bear. Still, there were a few old ones, who had followed Fingolfin, survived the War of Wrath, escaped the sack of Ost-in-Edhil, and won the battle of the Last Alliance. Some of them came to speak with Elrond before they sailed, not willing to abandon the one who they held to be their rightful king through descent from Turgon, whatever Elrond’s own opinion on the matter. Most of those had left within a few years after the War though, and nearly five decades later as it was, Elrond had thought all had settled in to wherever they would live for the next Age. He has a small hope, though he tried not to give it much weight, that as the others who recalled the First Age left, Maglor might come see him at last.

The elf seated in the garden was not Maglor, though his face held a certain familiarity. He was silver haired, but with Noldorin features, dressed in furs and with a rough spear set just outside his reach.

The stranger looked up. “You are Lord Elrond of Imlardis, son of Elwing and Eärendil?”

“I am.” It had been a long time since anyone had mentioned Elrond’s parents when being introduced, not since Aldarion had landed and sought to emphasize their kinship. Was this elf a relative of his? Elrond had no Teleri blood, and silver hair on a Calaquendi could mean little else…

The elf rose, but only to one knee. “I have come to pledge my service to you, if you will take it, as recompense for my ill deeds against the house of Luthien, of which you are the head on these shores. I am Tyelcormo Turcafinwe, known in Beleriand as Celegorm the Feral, and I seek to atone for the wrongs I committed against you ancestors Luthien, Beren, Dior, and Nimloth, and the wrongs committed in my name against your uncles Elurin and Elured.”

That was certainly not what Elrond had been expecting. “I thought you died in the Second Kinslaying.”

“I did, on the sword of Dior your grandfather. Lord Namo has judged me fit to return to perform a penance, though I am exiled from Aman until the time of the elves in Middle earth is complete.”

“And how long is that?”

“I don’t know; it will presumably be obvious when it happens.”

“And I am to supervise you until then?”

“Oh don’t worry, Namo knows that the actions of the Feanor’s sons are no one’s fault but our own. If you don’t want my service I’ll offer it to the Numenoreans, the important thing is that I made the offer properly.”

“Your actions would be on my conscience even if Lord Namo won’t weigh them against me.”

“I told you, I’m here to do penance. I’m not going to fight people for thrills.”

Elrond sighed. “Let’s go to my study and discuss this, I have a lot of questions. Erestor, please place our guest’s spear in the armory, keep his identity quiet for now.”

Erestor said, “My lord, are you sure that’s wise?”

“If he is who he claims to be, he already could have killed me when I came out to meet him. I would prefer not to have all Imlardis gossiping about the implications of a kinslayer returned.”

“Very well, my lord.”

Elrond sat down behind the desk in his study, while Celegorm leaned against the wall.

“I have not yet decided whether to accept your offer of service, but I would greatly appreciate knowing more of how you came to return, and why now, and whether I should anticipate more returned elves arriving in Imlardis.”

“I and my brothers have been in Mandos since the end of the first age. Tyelpe – or Celebrimbor I suppose – showed up, very disturbed and barely able to recall his own name, about two thousand years ago. Curufin helped him recover, and when Gil-Galad came to the Halls with word of Sauron’s defeat, Tyelpe felt Valinor would be safe enough to return to. Curvo was worried sick about leaving Tyelpe alone again. I went to Namo and told him that everything Curvo did should be laid on me, as I was older and could have stopped him. Namo agreed, and Curvo got to return to Valinor, although he’s barred from all Sindar and Teleri lands for a thousand years.”

“And how came you to Middle Earth?”

“Is that what we’re calling it now? Anyway, Namo decided that my ability to take responsibility for my actions was a good sign, but I should back it with more than just words. Valinor is a land of peace, and he didn’t want me stirring things up there. So here I am, exiled again, told to ‘make amends.’ Finrod’s in Tirion, so you seemed like a good place to start.”

‘What to do with Celegorm the Cruel shows up on my doorstep’ was not a scenario Elrond had planned for. He had plans for Maglor showing up, but he could hardly make Celegorm his court musician. “Besides your return, do you have any news from Valinor for Middle Earth?”

“No, Namo returned me to somewhere north of the big east-west mountain range here in Middle earth, I haven’t set foot in Valinor since I left it with my father.”

“Do you at least know who’s in Mandos? You mentioned – your brothers.”

“Sure. Caranthir got out at the same time as Curvo; Namo could hardly claim he was guiltier. Amrod is allowed out but refuses to leave without Amras. Maedhros was in nearly as bad of shape when he got in as Tyelpe, but he’s doing better now than he’s been since the Nirnaeth, being back with his husband.”

“Maedhros was _married_?”

“Technically just engaged when you knew him actually. He and Fingon got married in the Halls – I suppose neither my father nor Nolofinwe can really threaten them with anything at this point.”

“And Maglor?’

“Still hasn’t shown up. I presume he’s in Middle Earth somewhere.” When Celegorm noticed Elrond’s sigh of relief, he added, “Idril never showed up in the Halls either, so her boat presumably reached Valinor. That’s everyone whose fate was unknown according to Tyelpe, but if you’ve got more recent questions I might know.”

Elrond thought for a moment. “My grandfather Dior. Was he accounted Elf or Man?”

“Dior is an elf, and incredibly infuriated with me. You’d think killing me would be enough to make up for me killing him.”

“Elured and Elurin.”

“They came to the Halls shortly after I did. They didn’t stay long, though whether that was because they had nothing to repent of and were reborn or whether they went beyond the world I can’t say.”

Elrond took a deep breath. “What of your father’s Oath? Even if Namo believes you’re repentant, I would not set that loose in Middle earth again.”

“Our Oath was fulfilled at the end of the first age.”

“But – Maedhros and Maglor only got two Silmarils. What of the third? What happened to my father?!”

“Nothing! He’s perfectly fine. Caranthir actually figured it out, then he and Maedhros convinced Father. Maglor adopted you, which makes you family. The other parent of one’s children is family as well – Grandma claims _Indis_ as a kinswoman. Therefore, as long as you acknowledge Eärendil as your father, he counts as kin.”

“That works?”

“It might not if Eärendil refuses to give Father his Silmaril back, but until he gets out and requests it face to face it’ll hold.”

“Wouldn’t it be simpler to say that Eärendil is family due to being Fingolfin’s great grandson?”

Celegorm barked out a laugh. “Right, you never met Feanor. My father has never acknowledged any relationship with Indis’s children. I was twenty before I realized Arafinwe was a prince of the Noldor, not the Vanyar.”

Elrond had heard of the discord of the house of Finwe, but in his lifetime it had been due more to actions of Feanor’s house – Losgar, three Kinslayings, the Oath – than anything from Tirion. The Oath being satisfied was good though, whatever strange logic it took. 

“If I were to accept your service, what would you do? If Maglor had shown up I would have set him to translating old texts until people got used to him, but I doubt that would fit you well.”

“I can hunt and I can fight, and I can train others to do so. If there are still orcs around, I can kill those. I can track anything or anyone. I can translate old texts, or craft things in the forge, but I’m no more than a journeyman at either. If you really want I could give history lectures, though Manwe has prohibited me from speaking to groups larger than three dozen, due to Nargothrond.”

“Have the Valar placed any other restrictions on your behavior?”

“I’m forbidden from contacting my younger brothers for an Age due to my ‘corrupting influence’. I’m forbidden from carrying metal weapons except for the purpose of repaying my debt. And Namo said that killing me will be judged as self-defense, regardless of circumstance. Other than that, I am yours to command,” Celegorm said with a bow.

“Wonderful.” Elrond did not need foresight to see years of headaches ahead for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Celegorm is speaking in Sindarin with Elrond to be polite, as Celebrimbor mentioned that it was the far more widely spoken language, and consequently using Sindarin names. He calls Nolofinwe and Arafinwe by their Quenya names because using the ‘Fin’ prefix would be acknowledging their positions as high king, which Celegorm did as rarely as possible even when he and Fingolfin were both on the same continent.


End file.
